Johnny B. Goode Leif Garrett

Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play a guitar just like a-ringing a bell

Go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go, go, go, go, Johnny B. Goode

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Go sit beneath the trees besides the railroad tracks
Oh, engineers see him sitting in the shade
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by, they would stop and say
"Oh my, what that little country boy could play"

Go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go
Go, Johnny, go, go, go
Go, go, go, go, Johnny B. Goode